Wednesday is the day the paper comes out. It is also the day I do tearsheets. This means that for every advertiser who requires proof that we ran their ads, I tear out the pages with their ads on them and mail them along with their bill every month.
It takes all day because I don’t just do tearsheets for the Bolivar paper. I also do them for our eight other papers. As you can probably imagine, my hands get pretty dirty after handling all that newsprint. I have to be very cautious with my dangerously inky hands, because if I touch my clothes, the ink comes off. I happen to touch my face a lot, so I often find dark fingerprints or smudges on my face. My desk is covered in fingerprints. Today my desk was so dirty that one of my co-workers said it looked like I had fallen on the ground and dragged myself back up by clawing my fingers in my desk.
Part of me wants to go all day without washing my hands, just to see how dirty my hands can get. The other part of me has to go to the bathroom.
So I play the role of Edward Newsprinthands, trying not to befoul anything with my strange hands. Also, I’ve found when the paper towel dispenser is empty, I am Edward Drippyhands, staggering peculiarly and holding my hands far out in front of me (looking like I was built in a factory), trying not to drip water on myself as I search the bathroom for an alternate way to dry my hands.
When it comes time to clean off my desk, a handy "cleaning" solution in a spray bottle has been left behind for me by the woman who used to do my job. The spray bottle is unmarked, and the solution is a distinctive yellow color. Here’s hoping it’s not a homemade cleaner made out of the previous drone’s urine.